Page 47 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)
‘Yes, as a forester. I still have lots to learn from Loveday. Not many students get the chance to study under a wizard like him, and I want to make the most of it.’
The trainees took turns coming at him one by one with training staffs, but Cal fended them off with ease.
It was as if the staff helped him anticipate every move of his opponents.
Whenever Solar or one of the others tried an undercut, side sweep or full-frontal attack, Cal’s ash was there, blocking their blows with bone-jarring force.
They then came at him in twos and threes, and finally all together.
Cal’s staff was a blur, and within just a few hard-fought minutes the trainees had all been seen off.
Solar and the others were left in no doubt: Cal was a master warrior, and with his ash staff he was near-unbeatable.
*
One afternoon, almost two weeks after they had taken up residence, Solar, Bear and Pingot were playing dice with a few soldiers stationed in a palace guardhouse by the main gate of the summit’s fortifications.
Solar had struck up a friendship with one of the men, Lar, on her second day in the palace, when he had challenged her in an unmistakable Falcontop accent whilst she was passing through the gate.
They had spoken every day since, the man eager for news of a home he had not visited for some five years.
For her part, Solar had not realised how much she had missed the gruff, working-class speech of Falcontop’s industrial quarter.
When they discovered they shared an acquaintance in Norvel, innkeeper of The Fickle Friend, he had insisted that she join him in the guardhouse for a longer chat over tankards of mead.
It was not long before she was on bantering terms with him and the other guardsmen and was invited to join in the games of chance that they played to while away their hours on duty .
She had asked Bear and Pingot along not just for their good company, but because she needed at least one of them to lend her coin for the game.
Bear had taken some persuading to enter the guardhouse, since he did not look favourably upon gambling, but she had resolutely persisted until he finally acquiesced.
At first Solar had been afraid that Bear’s somewhat haughty manner would stifle the atmosphere of camaraderie that she had come to so enjoy, or – even worse – that the guardsmen would decline to play dice with two aristocrats.
But, to her surprise, the guards had taken an immediate liking to both boys and were soon making good-natured jokes at their expense.
Many revolved around what they considered to be Bear’s enviable looks and crude speculation that he must be a womaniser of some renown.
His obvious discomfort at their remarks, and his flushed glances at Solar, only made them joke all the more.
The guardsmen had made all three of them swear solemn oaths not to use any form of magic whilst playing.
Solar had readily agreed; there were ways to cheat without using magic.
She had gone to the effort of making loaded dice that were near-identical to the regular ones the guards used, and it would require only sleight of hand to use them each time it was her turn to roll.
She had no qualms about doing so, for over the last few days she had watched a number of the guardsmen’s games.
It was clear that each man cheated readily, and the winner was usually simply whoever managed to fool the others most effectively.
Just half an hour into the game, Solar had won enough coin to pay Bear and Pingot back their loans with interest. She was just getting ready to make another throw of her loaded dice – and consequently ruin two of the guards at the table – when a fussy-sounding cough from the doorway made her pause .
‘Solar Carpenter?’
Reluctantly, Solar turned her head towards the door, her hand paused mid-throw.
‘Yes?’ It was gloomy in the guardhouse, so it was hard to make out the man’s face as he looked in from the sunlit day outside, but eventually she recognised him as one of the palace servants.
‘Solar Carpenter, if you could step outside, please. Two very important gentlemen have requested a moment of your time.’
‘Who?’
‘Two of the king’s trusted advisers, no less.’
‘Alright, let me just finish this round,’ said Solar, turning back to the table and raising her eyebrows at Bear and Pingot.
‘They are not men who are accustomed to waiting, Solar Carpenter,’ the servant called, speaking more loudly. ‘I’m afraid I must insist that you accompany me immediately. They have gone to some lengths to arrange this meeting and do not have much time.’
Solar looked round the table, her hand still suspended over it. She had half a mind to tell the servant to leave her be. But the guardsmen were all strangely silent. Lar caught her eye.
‘Best you go with the servant, lass. Ain’t no point in keeping the high and mighty waiting. They don’t like it. But us boys on the other hand? We’ll pause our game till you get back from your little chat.’
With great reluctance, Solar lowered her hand and stood. Bear and Pingot rose too and made to follow her out of the room, but the servant stopped them. ‘Just the girl, young lords.’ His tone was polite, but firm.
The two of them exchanged confused glances, then Pingot shrugged. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘Solar, we can catch up later.’
‘Of course,’ she said, flashing them a smile. The servant might prevent Bear and Pingot from accompanying her, but there was nothing he could do to stop her sharing every detail with them later. She followed the man out into the main courtyard.
Solar had expected him to lead her through the palace’s front doors and into some grand courtier’s study.
But, instead, he took her to the kitchen wing, which was separated from the rest of the building by a covered arcade.
They entered through a low door and made their way down dark, winding corridors until they came to the light and warmth of the cooking area.
It was a hive of activity, as it had been on each of her previous excursions to the kitchens with Pingot. Cooks shouted instructions, pots and pans clanged, doors slammed and footsteps echoed along the adjacent chambers and corridors.
The servant led Solar through the bustle to a doorway at the left-hand side of the kitchen, through which was a flight of stairs.
‘Down the stairs and into the cellar please, Solar Carpenter,’ he said.
‘The noise up here will guarantee that your conversation with my masters is not overheard, and I will stand here and make sure no one follows after you.’ Solar entered, feeling the man’s eyes on her back as she descended the spiralling steps.
When she came to the bottom, she found herself in a cavernous wine cellar. Great oak barrels lined each wall, and huge pillars supported the vaulted ceiling. Torches in sconces mounted on each pillar lit the room with a soft, flickering light.
‘Lo! The witch has come! ’
Solar’s eyes darted to the source of the voice, and she saw two men emerge from behind a distant pillar and walk towards her.
The first had a fleshy face and a luxuriant russet beard. He was dressed richly, in a thick yellow cloak that trailed the ground behind him. The doublet beneath was a sumptuous red. At his throat he wore a scarf of amber hue, secured by a snarling wolf that flashed silver and was set with gems.
His companion was younger, leaner, and wore plain but sturdy clothing suitable for travelling. At this second man’s side was a staff. Both men carried cups of wine.
‘Who are you?’ Solar asked, standing at the foot of the stairs. She suddenly felt very uneasy.
The men seemed to sense her discomfort, for they slowed their approach and raised their hands as if placating an untrusting horse.
‘Solar, my apologies,’ said the bearded man, his voice unctuous. ‘I appreciate that this is rather an unexpected place to meet new friends. I am Lord Sceotend. You will have heard of me. No? Well, I am the king’s treasurer. A humble servant of His Majesty.’
The men drew to a stop by a low table set beside a pillar.
The second man drew a chair and gestured to it with an open palm.
‘Come, Solar,’ he said. ‘The kitchens above are noisy, hence no one will overhear us, but there is still little sense in tempting fate by conversing right by the stairs, where our voices may carry.’
Solar considered leaving, but her curiosity was aroused. Who were these men, and why did they want to speak to her?
She walked towards the table and took the offered seat. Though neither man had seemed tense before, they both visibly relaxed as she sat, and they too took chairs around the table .
Before Solar could open her mouth to ask what they wanted, Lord Sceotend spoke.
‘Solar, how are you finding your time here at the palace? I trust that all are welcoming? The servants obedient? Your chambers comfortable? You must be missing Falcontop, I imagine. Perhaps I could arrange for some of your regional, ahem, delicacies to be prepared for you specially. Rabbit and onion, for instance?’
Solar’s stomach gurgled. She hoped neither man heard. Rabbit and onion did sound good. But she put the thought of food out of her mind and looked at the man questioningly.
‘What do you want with me? Why do you , the king’s treasurer, care if I’m comfortable? Why do you want to talk with me?’
To her surprise, the man chuckled. ‘They told me you were feisty. Solar, I think the question is, who doesn’t want to talk with you?
But it is as I feared: you are clearly woefully unprepared for life at the royal palace.
It is fortunate that we managed to arrange a private meeting before some of our more manipulative colleagues reached you. ’